POV: Alec The sun is blazingly white against my eyelids when I open then. My skin is as red and cracked as my lips. Out of habit, I talk to myself, "In Wyoming the zombies are a bit different, they can't stand the sun. It makes them shrivel up and they scream like banshees." I hope I have the chance to say that to someone living soon. Really soon. Anyone, someone half turned will do. My gun bangs against my shins, reminding me that I need to get up and move. Find water. Eat. Shoot something. Find someone. I give my mind simple things to think; like how pretty the daisies are and how good this spring water will taste.
I actually posted this because my iPod fell at the right angle. It posted then I realized I'm too lazy to write anyomore
Can my favorite imaginary person of all time be in it??? His name is Ludwig Beilschmidt. He is 6'2" and buff, with slicked back blonde hair and blue eyes. He is good with guns, machines, and strategy, and he has a German accent. He is tormented by his family's past connections with the Nazi party (if you know where I'm going with that). Dear lord, please. Thanks^_^ I love the story so far!
POV: Arielle I had been standing there, knife in hand for five minutes when the moaning began. I think back to my Zombie101 classes at the local college; zombies had two ways to reproduce. One way is to bite people and to think of it as cloning, DNA is passed along in that bite that makes the human virtually a copy of the zombie who bit it. The other way... sexual reproduction. Gross. Sounds gross. Probably is gross. I back up slowly, the blood that had congealed to my shoes squishing as I walk. The moaning doesn't stop and I can hear as I walk out the door backwards into the sunlight. "Guess I can throw up now that I know I'm not gonna die," I mutter, hacking involuntarily.